Tear Stained Disguises
by Kare Uta
Summary: The sort of memories that a person keeps very close to their hearts; the memories that make up friendships, relationships, despite the disguises people wear and the masks they put on. Oneshot.


**Tear-Stained ****Disguises**

Even if his hand wasn't over her mouth anymore, she felt like she had to keep herself from screaming. Even if he was gentle, she had to keep herself from trusting him too much.

Lucille momentarily lifted his gaze from where his hand held the cloth to the bleeding wound; untwining his fingers from hers he reached out and ran his thumb just under her bottom lip.

She gasped softly from the touch; something that satisfied him as he smiled widely and pulled his hand back. "Always trying to bite yourself or someone else." He teased, ruffling her hair.

Touching her lip slowly and feeling the indentation in her lip she realized she had been biting it for far too long, and far too hard. Trying not to give herself away she simply sat quietly, her arm outstretched as Lucille wrapped the wound with clean bandages.

"Better?" Although he knew the answer, he must've felt the need to ask. That wide smile was once again plastered on his face and she resisted reaching out to touch it; wondering if such a smile was even real.

"Much." Instead of touching him she touched her clean bandages, and watching as Lucille got off her bed.

"Goodnight." He wished her; flashed his smile a little longer and left her in the darkness.

* * *

He picked her up promptly, smiling as she began to struggle against him, putting her down on the bed quickly. "There!" He laughed and then walked off.

Even after all Lucille's talk that they were so alike, Spinel wasn't entirely convinced that she could trust him. Some of the things he said…actually put her on edge.

He seemed entirely relaxed and content with her there though; just lazing about on his bed, holding a book above himself. She assumed he must have been in his own little world; something he had created and enjoyed because not once did he look back at her, who had been sitting on her bed in pure silence.

At some point he rolled over onto his stomach, humming quietly to himself. Next he lay the other way around, his head at the foot of the bed, and placing the book on the mattress. Noting her stiff figure out of the very top of his vision, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." She replied promptly, bitingly.

"Yes, I see that," he agreed, nodding his head, "but why?" He sat up straight and looked her up and down, trying hard to understand her. "You should unpack, relax… That's why…"

"That's why what?"

"I can't understand." Lucille found himself admitting.

"People don't do these things without expecting something in return. I'm not naïve!"

Lucille looked around himself, "Well…it's a big room; and having company is nice."

"It's nothing like that. I'm sure."

"What do you think it is?"

She huffed softly and looked away. If she said it and it wasn't true she could do one of two things; offend him, or give him an idea.

She didn't need to say it in the end; a moment later a sound of realization escaped Lucille's lips. "You think it's like _that_." He got off his bed and approached her slowly.

She tensed up when his hands gripped her shoulders lightly. She could feel her own breaths quaking in her chest; she felt like she was going to be sick; this was…exactly what she was afraid of. Unable to help herself she scrunched her eyes shut as she saw him inch closer and held her hands to the thudding in her chest.

Then she felt the other's cheek against hers, and soft breaths against her ear, "It's not like that at all; sorry." With a smile as big as Lucille's, it could practically be heard in his tone. She opened her eyes wide once he pulled away, and his strong hands left her shoulders. He ruffled her hair once more, "It's not like that." He repeated himself.

"Then why did you just…"

"I brought you up here, aside from aforementioned reasons, because I know it's easier for you. Downstairs, using the public shower rooms, you'll have a more difficult time to hide yourself from the others; you have to be on alert all the time."

"So you're honestly trying to make things easier for me?" Her question was still filled with disbelief.

"Isn't that the best way to get you to trust me?"

"I…"

Lucille continued to smile, "Don't worry! Just relax!"

Spinel crawled up onto her bed and watched Lucille get back to normal on his own. Did he really mean it? Did he really mean that he wanted her on his side?

* * *

Lucille walked up the stairs to his room, a little fast paced but, as he hoped, not enough to gain too much attention. Spinel was out of breath for most of choir practice, and she seemed more tense than usual.

"Spinel…" When he entered the bedroom he found nobody there; the room was dark but he knew she wasn't in there.

Nonetheless he could hear soft cries and gasps for breath coming from somewhere close so he closed the door quickly, able to hear other people in the background, and concentrated on those cries. He approached the bathroom door and pressed his ear to it, and after confirming what he heard he turned the handle and stepped in.

He crouched down just behind her and, with an unintended gentleness, touched her back. "What's wrong?" Her breath caught in her throat and her whole back shifted under his fingers with a loud hitched breath.

He circled her slowly, bringing her to face him and trying hard to read that red-faced expression. He didn't want to see her cry and it looked so much that it was just moments from happening. "Come on." He pushed her to tell him. "What's wrong?"

"Hurts…"

"Hurts?" Her arm had healed weeks ago, and even at that time she had made not a single complaint of pain; what could possibly be making her act this way? He looked her up and down and pulled her hands off her chest, her white shirt had been un-tucked and open from the top. He pulled the shirt aside slowly, and didn't get very much complaints from the girl through her breaths. "How long?" He asked her sternly but couldn't bring himself to look at her either, shuffling off the floor and over to one of the counters. He returned, sitting opposite her and repeating the question. It didn't matter to him, until he put the cold smooth steel near her shoulder, ready to cut through the bandages that bound her upper body tightly.

"Don't tear them!" She snapped and pushed herself back. "I need them!"

"You don't need them so badly that you make yourself sick." Lucille retorted, trying to be patient. "You're making your breathing worse! You're hurting your voice too, do you really want that?"

"Stop looking at me." She hissed, turning around.

"Listen to your voice; listen to your breathing; you know as well as I do that that's not good." He wasn't sure just how much of a convincing argument he could possible be making. He had no concept, no understanding of what she could be going through other than what he knew wasn't right. He rubbed her back gently, her breathing so difficult that he couldn't stand to hear it. "You don't sleep with them on too, do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Can I help?" He asked, perching his chin on the girl's shoulder and trying not to intimidate her. He turned her around slowly and reached for the bandages over her shoulder, tugging at it to see where it would come out from.

She hissed softly and pulled back, "Careful!" she snapped.

He smiled apologetically and watched her take her shirt off and then find the beginning to unravel from. She began to hiss so much that he took over while she awkwardly played with her shirt, keeping it close. Even his face had grown hot and red, feeling more embarrassed for her, as much as he was happy that she trusted him.

He put the bandages down and averted his eyes to the bathroom counter as she put the shirt back on. "You're bruised so don't put them on too tight anymore." He instructed quietly, a hand on her head.

She inhaled deeply and, lacking self-control, let herself lean back against him. "Okay."

Lucille touched her cheek softly with the tips of his fingers, watching her serene expression that barely flinched. He patted the girl's face, "Hey, don't faint." He requested, noticing how her eyelashes fluttered closed.

She sat up and drew her knees to her chest, ruffling her own hair before adjusting her shirt. Lucille crouched facing her, reaching out, "Come." He beckoned.

In that moment he looked almost…angel-like. With all her original judgements aside she could understand why people said what they did about him.

He picked her up almost effortlessly, although he was only a few years older than her and didn't look all that strong. As they left the bathroom and were making their way into the bedroom, Spinel looked at him curiously once he smiled widely against her cheek. "Carrying Spinel-the-girl is really different from carrying Spinel-the-boy."

"You jerk!" She began struggling against him again, knocking her fists hard into his chest and shoulder. "You can't ever shut up!" Her cuter voice began to come out, although it was because she was so hoarse that she wasn't able to manipulate her tone anymore.

He put her down on her bed, continuing to chuckle, "Such a cute voice! It really is wasted in here." She huffed and turned her face away. "Rest until dinner." He advised, patting her head again because he realized it comforted her as much as it worked her up; it was entertaining to see her so…flustered by him.

He sat down at the foot of her bed which surprised her when she looked up from shuffling herself under the sheets. "You're going to be told off and given a lot of trouble tomorrow because of your voice but…don't be too discouraged."

She nodded faintly and rolled over, pressing one of her cheeks into the pillow.

Lucille crawled back up to the top of the bed, "I'll help you too, okay?"

"I trust you."

Lucille smiled cheerfully; a wide and honest smile. "I'm happy to hear that."

"D-Don't betray me."

"I won't; promise."

"T-Tha-anks." She stuttered, and just when she thought that the red in her cheeks couldn't get any deeper, he kissed her cheek and proved that it could.

* * *

_I was scared of the loneliness, that I even wouldn't be able to find your whereabouts  
The ideal, that I can't catch a hold of you even if I want to, wavers_

_Night of my deepest desire that was able to prosper in my loneliness  
I got lonely by simply losing everything_

_I can turn myself in my weakness, which is that I understand that I can not die  
Someone just please tell me the reason and meaning of living._

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**Author's Note: My first fanfiction since about 2008. Thanks for this goes to my dearest friend (who knows who she is!) who helped me so much~ **

**The last bit in _Italic _is the English translation of the lyrics of the song 'Silent Eve' by Sadie, which I thought suited this.**

**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**


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